


First Protector

by RayShippouUchiha



Category: Bleach
Genre: Abandonment, Abuse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Always Female Kurosaki Ichigo, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Parent Kurosaki Isshin, Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Extended Winter War, F/M, Female Kurosaki Ichigo, Hollow instincts, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kuorsaki Isshin's A+ Parenting, My Canon Now Kubo, Possessive Behavior, Post-Winter War (Bleach), Sharing a Bed, Smut, Touch-Starved, Winter War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22937341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayShippouUchiha/pseuds/RayShippouUchiha
Summary: “First Protectorright?” he cackles, eyes wide and manic as he smiles with too many teeth.“Right,” Ichigo agrees.Because yes, that’s what Ichigo is.That’s what she’s always been.What she’ll always be.“Alright then, King,” the boy grins, “let’s show those fuckers what we’ve got.”And then all Ichigo knows is power.
Relationships: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke
Comments: 95
Kudos: 1882





	First Protector

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Severed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21650362) by [Rivehn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rivehn/pseuds/Rivehn). 
  * Inspired by [Shifts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18910057) by [DearCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DearCat/pseuds/DearCat). 



> It's me, ya girl, back at it again with another of my Hobbit style birthday gifts, on this, the actual day of my birth.

Ichigo is five and she’s crying.

Sometimes it feels as if she’s _always_ crying about something.

Good day or bad, Ichigo comes home from school in tears more often than not.

Daddy seems to think she cries too much too because all he does is laugh just a bit, mouth twisted down at the corners. He looks the same way he did the first time Tatsuki-chan beat her in a spar at Ichigo’s new dojo.

He doesn’t even bother to ask her what’s wrong. Instead he pats Ichigo on the head with a heavy hand and then keeps walking further into the house singing out Karin and Yuzu’s names as he goes.

Ichigo doesn’t think he likes her very much no matter what Mama says, no matter how many times she swears that Daddy _loves_ Ichigo just as much as the twins.

But Ichigo _knows_ it isn’t true.

She hears them arguing sometimes late at night when she creeps out of her room and into the twins to watch them for a while like a good big sister should.

So sometimes, feet silent and a hand clamped around her mouth to be extra quiet, Ichigo stands outside their bedroom door and hears the things Daddy says about her. Hears the way he says _‘that girl, Masaki, I swear,’_ and how he calls her a _‘crybaby that needs to toughen up’_.

Ichigo can always practically _feel_ the way Mama goes that quiet and _heavy_ kind of angry that Ichigo _hates_ in response.

So Daddy doesn’t like her but Ichigo doesn’t _need_ Daddy, not like the twins do, not really.

Ichigo has Mama, has Karin and Yuzu too, so it’s _okay_.

“Oh baby,” Mama’s there in the next second, crouching down in front of Ichigo, hand gentle as she presses her palm to Ichigo’s forehead and then slides it down to cup her cheek. “What’s got my little treasure so upset, hmm?”

Ichigo just shakes her head and presses forward into her Mama’s warm, comforting arms. They’re the one place above all others where she feels _safe_. Where she knows that _nothing_ will be able to get to her.

“It’s okay,” Mama murmurs as she pulls Ichigo closer and then picks her up so that Ichigo can wrap her legs around her waist and bury her face in the crook of Mama’s neck. “You just get all those tears out, okay? We’ll talk about it when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” Ichigo whispers as she snuggles further into the apple scented warmth of Mama’s hair.

~~~

Later, once the crying’s stopped, Ichigo sits on her Mama’s knee in the rocking chair in the twin’s room and tells her what happened.

Ichigo tells her about how the kids at school are _mean_ to her. Tells her about how they call Ichigo stupid names like _strawberry head_ and _cry-berry_ and _carrot top_. About how Sasagawa-kun who sits behind her keeps pulling Ichigo’s hair until she cries but never gets in trouble with the teacher for some reason. About how Ichigo doesn’t play with anyone but Tatsuki-chan at recess because she’s the only one who’ll stand up for Ichigo against the other kids.

Mama’s quiet for a long time when Ichigo finally stops talking, finally runs out of things to say.

“Mama’s so sorry baby,” Mama finally says. “I’ll go to the school tomorrow and have a conversation with your teacher okay? We’re going to get this figured out.”

Sniffling, Ichigo just nods because if Mama says she’ll do it then Ichigo _knows_ it’s true.

Mama _never_ lies to her.

“Now,” Mama says softly, a hand coming up to smooth back the wild spikes of Ichigo hair, tucking a loc behind her ear, “there’s something else I want to talk to you about. So pay attention to Mama, okay?”

Ichigo nods sharply because she always listens to Mama. Always.

“Do you know why I gave you the name _Ichigo_?” Mama asks.

Ichigo scowls just a bit, lower lip pouting out hard.

“Means strawberry,” she grumbles, only pouting harder when Mama laughs just a bit.

“It can,” Mama agrees even as she shifts slightly to pull a pen and pad from the table beside the rocking chair, “and for most girls it does but that’s not all it can mean either. Especially since Mama picked a different kanji.”

Mama balances the pad on her free knee and writes the familiar kanji for Ichigo’s name in clear, clean strokes.

“When _‘ichi’_ is written like this,” Mama points to the first kanji, “it means _‘one’_.”

Ichigo nods slowly, eyes glued to the paper.

“And _‘go’_ written like this,” Mama points to the second kanji, “means _‘protect’_. So do you know what that makes you?”

Ichigo shakes her head, teeth biting down on her lower lip.

“It makes you my little _First Protector_ ,” Mama tells her softly as she sets the pad aside and turns Ichigo around in her lap so that they’re facing each other. “That’s what I named you, Ichigo. _First Protector._ It’s a name to be proud of, baby, no matter what those nasty kids at school say. Because you’re going to grow up to be _strong_. Strong in all the ways your Mama couldn’t be. You’re already a wonderful daughter and the _best_ big sister to the twins and you get better every day. So don’t listen to those mean kids okay? And I want you to know that I’m _always_ going to be so proud of you.”

Tears well up in Ichigo’s eyes again as she nods but this time they don’t feel so bad.

Held close to Mama’s chest, her heart beating steady and strong beneath Ichigo’s ear, she lets her eyes drift closed.

 _‘First Protector,’_ Ichigo thinks to herself in the moment before sleep claims her. _‘Not strawberry. Never strawberry. First Protector. Just like Mama said. Always.’_

~~~

Later that night Ichigo sneaks out of her room and back into the twin’s once again.

“Gonna keep you safe,” Ichigo whispers her promise, her vow, into the quiet of the room as she stares down at Karin and Yuzu. Each of them blink up at her sleepily, tiny hands wrapped around the fingers Ichigo had pressed against the centers of their little palms. “Mama says I’m the _First Protector_ so that means I gotta keep you _safe_ , you two and Mama. _Always_.”

Karin blinks again and then yawns, tiny mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ while Yuzu laughs and blows spit bubbles.

Ichigo falls asleep there, sitting on the floor between the twin’s cribs, hands pressed through the rails so her sisters can hold onto her throughout the night.

~~~

That night Ichigo dreams of an endless city, of bone white walls and night dark glass stretching as far as the eye can see.

Dreams of white clouds dotting a bright blue sky that goes on and on _and on_.

“ _Ichigo_ ,” a smooth voice whispers in the back of her mind.

 _“First Protector huh?”_ a raspier voice cackles roughly somewhere in the distance. _“Well hurry and grow the hell up then. Can’t be King like this.”_

~~~

Ichigo doesn’t remember any of it when she wakes up.

But that doesn’t make it any less real.

~~~

Ichigo takes her job as daughter and big sister, as _First Protector_ , very seriously.

She studies hard, reads a lot, throws herself into her training at the dojo and into learning how to do whatever she can around the house to help her Mama. Because, Ichigo reasons, sometimes protecting someone means helping with the little stuff too.

Mama always laughs and indulges her, lets her help change Karin and Yuzu’s diapers or feed them while Daddy works at the clinic. Lets her help with the grocery shopping and the cooking and whatever else Ichigo can safely do.

Time passes, the twins and Ichigo all grow older and bigger, but life is bright and happy and _warm_.

And even when Ichigo keeps coming home in tears or with bruises that don’t come from the dojo Mama always presses a kiss to her forehead, calls Ichigo her _brave First Protector_ , and tells her how _proud_ she is.

At six, seven, eight years old Ichigo looks at the three of them, at Mama and Yuzu and Karin, even looks at her Dad sometimes too, and thinks, _‘I would do anything to protect this.’_

~~~

And then Ichigo turns nine and there’s a day with _rain_ and a _girl that is not a girl_ on the side of the riverbank.

And, between one breath and the next, Ichigo’s entire world _shatters_.

~~~

Sitting in a hospital bed, room empty around her, Ichigo stares down at the blood on her hands, dried and caked beneath her nails.

 _‘I didn’t protect her_ ,’ is all Ichigo can think, mind too dazed to focus on anything else but her bloody hands. Her _Mama’s blood_ painting her skin red and dirty and guilty, guilty, _guilty_. _‘It’s my fault she died. I should ha-’_

Ichigo shakes the thought off but she doesn’t cry.

 _Can’t_.

“First Protector,” Ichigo whispers into the silence of her hospital room as her hands slowly curl themselves into tight fists. “I was supposed to keep her _safe_.”

~~~

After that nothing is the same.

The funeral comes and Isshin is a pale, blank eyed statue.

The twins are confused and _crying_ and it’s all Ichigo can do to hold the both of them up and keep them mostly quiet throughout the entire thing.

Ichigo hears the way the people who show up whisper, hears the pity in their voices and sees it in their eyes, but she doesn’t focus on any of it.

 _‘First Protector,’_ Ichigo murmurs to herself as she squares her shoulders, tilts her chin up, and pulls the girls closer to her sides, tucking their faces against her sides like Mama always doe- _used to do_ for her.

But the name, the title, sounds so _hollow_ to Ichigo now.

Because the warmth, the _heart_ , of their family gets buried right alongside Kurosaki Masaki, right alongside Ichigo’s Mama, and _it’s all her fault_.

~~~

Isshin disappears when they make it home. He steps into the clinic, shuts and locks the door behind him, and just … doesn’t come back out.

They don’t see him for the next week and a half and even then Ichigo only goes to him because the food in the house is all gone and the twins are _hungry_.

Ichigo had failed in her job once already. Had failed to protect Mama.

She won’t do the same with Yuzu or Karin.

So, squaring her shoulders, Ichigo stands outside the clinic door and knocks and knocks and calls for him until Isshin finally opens the door and thrusts his wallet in her direction before slamming it closed again.

The sound of the lock clicking reverberates in Ichigo’s head like a gong and something small and hopeful inside of her curls up just a bit tighter, goes just a bit colder.

But she doesn’t focus on it, doesn’t dwell.

Instead Ichigo turns on her heel and heads to get the twins ready.

They need food and Ichigo can’t, won’t, leave them alone in the house while she goes to the store.

Won’t leave them behind where she can’t protect them.

~~~

The trip home is slow. Yuzu and Karin can’t walk as fast as Ichigo, and the grocery bags are heavy even though Ichigo is stronger than a lot of girls her age and size, but they make it back eventually.

The house is cold and empty when Ichigo pulls the front door open.

There’s no Mama there to greet them, no sound of the television on in the background or the scent of something delicious cooking in the kitchen.

Instead there’s just a dark silence hovering over the entire place.

It barely feels like the same house at all, barely feels like the same home Ichigo has grown up in for the past nine years.

For a too long second Ichigo doesn’t even want to go inside. Doesn’t want to see all of the places where Mama should still be but never will again.

But Yuzu and Karin huddle closer to Ichigo’s sides then, shoulders shaking and faces so _sad_ , so Ichigo forces herself to take that step over the threshold and further into the house.

The door shuts quietly behind her but the sound is loud inside Ichigo’s head.

~~~

Ichigo does the best she can, putting all of the things she’d learn at her Mama’s side to work to make sure the twins get what they need.

She cooks simple meals, does the laundry, gets the twins a bath and into bed all on her own like she has been since the funeral.

It’s hard and it’s scary but _Ichigo does it anyways_.

She does any and everything she can or has to do because if she doesn’t do it then _no one will_.

And, the entire time, she doesn’t cry.

Ichigo’s not sure if she’ll ever cry again.

 _‘First Protector,’_ Ichigo thinks as she blinks dry eyes and forces herself to stay awake just a bit longer because she needs to finish sweeping the kitchen. _‘First Protector.’_

~~~

Isshin hits Ichigo for the first time two months after the funeral.

Dazed, blood in her mouth from the hit to the jaw, Ichigo blinks up at him from her place on the kitchen floor.

Behind her, balanced on the stools Ichigo gave them so they could help her wash dishes like they’ve been begging to for the past week, the twins stare in horror.

Isshin just stares down at Ichigo, hands resting on his hips, and _laughs_.

“You need better reflexes than that!” Isshin crows loudly, seemingly oblivious to the jagged sort of silence that’s fallen over the kitchen. “But don’t worry, Daddy’ll help you fix it!”

Behind her Ichigo hears the way Yuzu starts to cry.

It’s all Ichigo needs to find the strength to press herself up off of the floor and back onto her feet.

 _'First Protector,’_ Ichigo thinks as she firms her stance and makes sure to stay between Isshin and the twins. _‘First Protector.’_

~~~

The next time someone insults Ichigo’s hair she puts her fist in his nose and barely even blinks.

~~~

Ichigo never mistakes another spirit for a living person again.

She helps out when and where she can for the friendlier ghosts and takes every opportunity to memorize all the ways they look and feel different from solid people.

It’s hard for her because there’s no one she can ask and the differences aren’t obvious like t.v. and books all say they should be but Ichigo is determined to always, _always_ , know the difference now.

To never make that kind of mistake again.

Not since the last time cost her and the twins so much.

~~~

It becomes the new normal, Isshin’s random attacks.

Ichigo learns to be quieter, to duck faster, to react to even the slightest movement she might catch out of the corner of her eyes.

Learns to take a hit in a way not even her time at the dojo had successfully taught her.

But she also stops letting anyone but the twins touch her. Stays out of arm's reach from everyone she can in a way that makes Tatsuki _frown_.

She starts putting her back to whatever wall she can find, starts eyeballing exits and entrances with quick, second nature glances. She keeps her hair, long like Mama had always liked it and growing ever longer and _wilder_ as time goes by, pulled back and out of her face in a thick braid.

After the first time Isshin wakes her up with a flying kick Ichigo stops sleeping deeply too, learns to cat nap, learns to be alert to every single creak and groan of the house. Learns to hear even Isshin’s whisper quiet footsteps coming down the hall.

The twins take their cues from her as well, always staying a few steps behind Ichigo whenever Isshin comes out of the clinic.

In turn Ichigo’s always careful to never let them be alone with Isshin if she can help it.

It’s exhausting, the constant vigilance, the gnawing, throbbing worry that she’s not doing enough, that she’s not doing what the girls need, that she’s not doing anything _right_.

Ichigo misses her Mama with an aching sort of desperation.

But she doesn’t let any of that stop her.

Everytime Isshin knocks her down Ichigo gets back up again, gets a little bit faster, a little bit better.

 _‘First Protector,’_ Ichigo thinks to herself every single time. _‘First Protector.’_

She failed Mama.

She won’t fail Yuzu and Karin.

Not again.

~~~

Time passes, the twins and Ichigo grow, the household settles, roles shifting and changing in small ways.

The girls find after school programs to keep them both busy and out of the house as often as possible and for as long as possible too.

At home Karin takes over a portion of the necessary house work and Yuzu demands Ichigo’s help in learning how to cook. Then she promptly outstrips Ichigo in everything but tea making for some reason.

And Yuzu might do most of the cooking now but it’s still Ichigo who does the laundry and enforces homework rules and bedtimes, who reads bedtime stories and packs up twin bento for the next school day.

It’s still Ichigo who does the more complicated chores like grocery shopping or wrangling bill money out of Isshin every month and making sure everything’s paid on time.

It’s still Ichigo who forges permission slips and attends Karin’s soccer games and carries cupcakes to Yuzu’s after school baking club.

It’s still Ichigo who steps in between the girls and Isshin whenever his loud enthusiasm towards Mama’s shrine or Ichigo’s ' _training'_ startles them or his new tendency towards a suffocating degree of doting on the twins makes them obviously uncomfortable.

This is how Ichigo protects her sisters, this is how she protects what is _hers_.

This is how Ichigo lives up to the name her Mama gave her.

~~~

Time passes and Ichigo is ten and eleven and twelve and she develops a reputation that goes beyond her dead mom and her too bright hair.

This one involves her ever present scowl, her tendency to stare at things other people can’t see, and the way she’ll answer insults with flying fists and stomping feet.

 _‘Delinquent,’_ more than one teacher hisses despite the fact that, on top of all her other responsibilities, Ichigo keeps well within the top fifty of her class without even really trying. If she had more time to just study instead of everything else ...

Tatsuki gets mad at her for fighting outside of the dojo but Ichigo can’t bring herself to care. Tatsuki is still her only real friend but she also has Inoue Orihime now to keep her company.

Besides, even with her odd jobs and errands around town, Ichigo can’t really afford the dues at the dojo anymore, not with Karin and Yuzu needing new clothes and supplies and Isshin not paying attention to the budget for anything but the clinic itself.

The streets and alleys of Karakura and Isshin’s _‘training’_ along with the basics in self defense she’s taught both Karin and Yuzu are more than enough to keep Ichigo in shape anyways.

~~~

Meeting Chad, tall and strong and soft and _safe_ in a way Ichigo can’t really describe is a blessing.

It’s nice to have someone at her back that she can trust when yet another gang of bullies thinks they have what it takes to _put her in her place_.

Ichigo still steps in front of him of course but Chad doesn’t let her stay there for long.

Instead he steps up, puts himself beside her, and _fights_.

~~~

Ichigo is thirteen and fourteen and life moves forward.

Yuzu is almost terrifyingly competent in the kitchen.

Karin has a deep well of sarcasm and poorly concealed contempt for the man that only Yuzu calls _Dad_. And even that’s done for a reason, as a way to maintain a carefully crafted _balance_.

Isshin’s hits land harder and harder so Ichigo just gets better and better at dodging, at deflecting, at turning his attack back on him and tossing him into a wall or out a window.

The way she refuses to attack first still pisses him off though.

Ichigo enjoys that more than she probably should.

~~~

And then Ichigo is fifteen and, for the second time in less than a decade, her entire world view is upended.

Shattered like so much glass.

~~~

There’s a _girl_.

And a _monster_.

And the twins are in _danger_.

There’s so much to take in.

Almost too much.

But Ichigo does what she always does.

She squares her shoulders, tightens her jaw, and steps forward.

 _‘First Protector,’_ Ichigo thinks as the sword bites deep into her chest. _‘Anything, everything, to protect them.’_

~~~

Being a Shinigami feels almost like coming home.

Like there’s a part of her that was always waiting for this to happen.

And even though her control is shit and she’s fighting _monsters_ now, Ichigo has the power to protect Yuzu and Karin and the small gaggle of friends and almost friends she’s managed to gather.

The little mismatched group of people with and without powers that belong to _her_.

This gathering of oddballs that she can’t help but look at and watch over while some whisper in the darker corner of her mind says _‘mine’_.

So, despite the hardships, despite Geta-bōshi’s bullshit and Rukia’s temper, despite Inoue’s cheer and Ishida’s attitude, despite the danger and craziness and the _hurt_ this is still the happiest Ichigo has been in … a long time.

~~~

And so, of course, that too ends up destroyed.

~~~

Rukia, with her flaring temper and horrible drawings and her prickly sort of shyness, is _taken_.

Snatched right out of Ichigo’s hands.

Right out from underneath her protection.

_And then Ichigo is struck down hard._

For the second time in her life Ichigo fails to protect something, _someone_ , precious to her.

Laid out bleeding on the ground, barely clinging to consciousness and _life_ , Ichigo swears there won’t be a third time.

 _‘First Protector,’_ Ichigo thinks as the black closes in around the edges, as she sees a flash of green out of the corner of her eye, _‘Anything, everything, to protect them all.’_

~~~

For a while Ichigo just ... _drifts_.

Sometimes she wakes up enough to _remember_ and then she _fights_.

Fights to stand, fights to move, fights to find and protect what is _hers_.

 _‘First Protector,’_ Ichigo’s mind warbles, half mad with failure.

But there are always warm hands on her face, steady fingers smoothing back her hair, wide palms pressing gently on her shoulders to keep her down and _still_.

There’s always a deep voice in her ear telling her to _‘stop that now Kurosaki-san, you’re only hurting yourself more’_.

But Ichigo _can’t_.

She can’t stop.

She can _never_ stop.

Because if she does …

_If she does ..._

When Ichigo looks up, desperation clawing at every inch of her, there are familiar calm, calculating grey eyes staring back down at her.

Ichigo _drifts_.

~~~

Urahara makes Ichigo an offer wrapped in a threat.

Ten days to train.

Seven to open the gateway.

Thirteen to save Rukia.

To fail is to die.

To fail is to let _Rukia_ die.

Ichigo won’t fail.

_Can’t._

~~~

Urahara shows her a deep, dark shaft in the ground and gives her another choice.

Ichigo takes it of course.

Urahara cuts her Chain and Ichigo _falls_.

~~~

There’s an old man in a long coat living in the depths of Ichigo’s soul.

But there’s something else too.

 _Someone_ else.

With his short hair and pure white skin, with his eyes like the sun and a mouth like a black hole, the boy looks like her only not. He’s like an inverted version of her, the brilliant moon to her blazing sun. Her equal and opposite all at the same time.

And he wants her _gone_.

Wants to take over her body and live as _King_.

But Ichigo …

Ichigo won’t let him.

 _Can’t_.

She has too much to protect to let something, someone, like this stop her now.

Ichigo doesn’t have time for all of this drama. Doesn’t have time to be afraid of what’s living wrapped around her soul, or hidden in the depths of her heart.

Ichigo needs to be stronger.

Anything, _everything_ , to protect them all.

“You’re me right?” Ichigo grits out, hand fisted in the white of his shihakusho.

“I’m a _hollow_ you stupid bitch,” Ichigo’s pale opposite snaps out.

“Yeah well you’re my hollow aren’t you?” Ichigo bites back just as viciously. “So that makes you a part of me. That means we’re in this together.”

One hand wrapped around her wrist and the other fisted around the base of Ichigo’s braid, the boy goes _quiet_.

“Stop fighting me,” Ichigo tells him, one part demand and one part barely hidden plea. “Stop fighting and start working with me. I need to be stronger, you, _both of you_ , will make me _stronger_. So stop fighting and help me. _Help me protect them all or I’ll die trying_.”

There’s a long moment of charged silence.

And then the boy begins to laugh.

“ _First Protector_ right?” he cackles, eyes wide and manic as he smiles with too many teeth.

“ _Right_ ,” Ichigo agrees.

Because _yes_ , that’s what Ichigo is.

That’s what she’s always been.

What she’ll always be.

“Alright then, _King_ ,” the boy grins, “let’s show those fuckers what we’ve got.”

And then all Ichigo knows is _power_.

~~~

Ichigo isn’t sure, exactly, what to think about the look Urahara gives her when she comes out of the shaft.

She doesn’t focus on it though.

 _Can’t_.

Instead all she can focus on is the way the Old Man whispers in the back of her head now. The way she can hear the Pale Boy cackling just behind her eyes.

“Kurosaki-san?” Urahara’s voice is almost hesitant and his hand is tight around the handle of his cane. “Are you alright?”

Ichigo blinks, stares at him and then down at the sword she’s holding in one clawed hand. Then her free hand comes up to press against the mask on her face.

“We’re fine,” Ichigo murmurs, voice dual toned and raspy. It would be shocking if she could bring herself to care about it.

“We?” Urahara whispers and Ichigo’s almost certain that he spoke so lowly that he never intended her to hear the question.

But she did.

Because the world around her is so much _more_ now.

And then the black closes in around the edges and Ichigo _falls_.

~~~

Kisuke stares down at Kurosaki Ichigo’s sprawled body with some strange mix of awe and unease twisting inside of him.

He’d done what he had to in order to awaken her inner hollow but he’d never calculated …

Seeing her come out of the shaft fully transformed, mask and, more extraordinarily, _mind_ intact had been unlike anything Kisuke had ever thought to see from his temporary student.

Especially not so soon.

Sighing Kisuke relaxes his grip on Benihime and moves to crouch down beside Ichigo. He tsks lightly in the back of his throat as he reaches out and smooths a flyaway strand of that brilliant hair back away from her face.

“You really are a lot of trouble aren’t you, berry-chan?” Kisuke murmurs before he reaches out and carefully picks the girl up.

She curls closer to his chest with a soft sigh, nose pressed against the vulnerable side of his throat and a hand still wrapped around that monster of a zanpakutō she has.

Ichigo’s a tall girl, not too much shorter than he is really, and what he’s seen of her is mainly lean muscle built for speed but backed with a surprising amount of strength.

But like this, huddled close to his chest, she feels almost _small_. Almost too young and too small to do what Kisuke, what the worlds, _need_ her to d-

Kisuke forcefully shakes the thought off. Maybe one day, if all this works out and neither of them die a horrible, bloody death in the process, he’ll apologize to her for everything he’s had his hand in.

For everything he’s put her through and everything he still intends to heap onto her shoulders.

But that’s for later.

 _Hopefully_. 

Besides, there’s still more for him to do in the here and now and Ichigo has, in his humble shopkeeper’s opinion, more than earned a bit of rest.

 _‘Plus,’_ Kisuke thinks with no small amount of amusement as he shifts her surprisingly light weight in his arms, _‘Shinji and the others will certainly be more than interested to hear about this development.’_

~~~

That night Ichigo dreams of an endless city, of bone white walls and night dark glass stretching as far as the eye can see.

Dreams of white clouds dotting a bright blue sky that goes on and on _and on_.

Ichigo lays on the top of a building, limbs spread eagle and eyes trained on the sky.

“Ichigo,” a smooth voice calls out to her. “Welcome.”

“Get the fuck up, _First Protector_ ,” a raspier voice sneers from her right before a foot plants itself in her ribs. “You said you wanted to get stronger right? Well now you’re going to. _Or else_. I’ll be a good horse for now but you sure as shit can’t be King if your lazy ass is just gonna lay around like this.”

~~~

Zangetsu, her zanpakutō, is like an extension of Ichigo’s body now in a way it never was before.

Ichigo moves through forms that feel like instinct while Ossan and the newly named Shiro whisper and bitch in the back of her head.

Urahara, in between sparring and doing whatever else he’s doing, watches her from the shadows of the training bunker from time to time.

But Ichigo doesn’t focus on him.

 _Can’t_.

Instead all she thinks about is …

“ _Stronger, faster, better_ ,” Ichigo murmurs to herself, vows it to Ossan, to Shiro, to all of the worlds combined.

~~~

And then the day comes.

Geta-bōshi opens the Senkaimon.

Ichigo, with Chad, Orihime, and Ishida at her back and Yoruichi on her shoulder, steps through.

“Good luck, Kurosaki-san,” Urahara murmurs from behind them. “It’s up to you now.”

Ichigo doesn’t look back but she does square her shoulders just a bit more.

Because he’s right and she knows it.

~~~

They pass through the Dangai and hit the ground running on the other side of the Senkaimon.

And from there if feels as if they don’t stop.

Even when they’re settled in Kukaku’s compound Ichigo feels as if she’s still running.

Like there’s an itch just beneath her skin, a feral sort of wariness that she just can’t seem to shake.

The only time she comes even close to relaxing is when she can see Ishida, Chad, and Orihime all at the same time, sitting huddled together in the same room during meals or after training.

Having them all there together helps to settle something inside of her just a bit.

~~~

They breach the walls of Seireitei and something inside of Ichigo roars in fury at the way she ends up separated from the others.

_She can’t protect them if they’re not with her._

But there’s no time for that and Ichigo forces herself to remember that they’re all stronger now than ever before. Forces herself to believe that they can protect themselves until they all manage to get back together again.

For now her focus has to be on Rukia.

~~~

It’s not easy.

Ichigo didn’t expect it to be but it still _hurts_.

There’s still so much _blood_ and _pain_.

But with Zangetsu in hand and Ossan and Shiro’s hands pressed against her shoulders Ichigo steps forward and _does it anyways_.

She beats Ikkaku.

Shiro protects her from Renji’s blow and they press forwards.

Ichigo grits her teeth and faces down Zaraki with Shiro cackling in glee in the back of her head.

She doesn’t walk away from that one but this time it’s Yoruichi who comes for her instead of Geta-bōshi. 

~~~

And then, in the middle of it all, there’s Byakuya again.

This time Ichigo doesn’t go down so easily.

She thinks that, maybe, she sees a hint of surprise in Byakuya’s eyes and it just makes Ichigo bare her teeth in a snarl before everything goes black again.

~~~

Time rushes forward.

Ichigo’s given three days to achieve her Bankai.

Wounded, body aching but healing even faster than Yoruichi apparently thought she should, Ichigo gets to her feet, tilts her chin up, and presses forward.

Anything, everything, to protect what is _hers_.

And so with Shiro’s mad laughter rattling behind her teeth and Ossan’s vicious calm twining through her bones even as he attacks over and over again, Ichigo does it in under two.

“Kisuke was right,” Yoruichi murmurs as Ichigo kneels, panting but _accomplished_. “You’re kind of terrifying, kid.”

~~~

But then Renji comes and tells her that Rukia’s execution has been moved up and there’s no more time to rest.

~~~

Byakuya is just as strong and fast and devastating as Ichigo remembers him being.

But Ichigo has gotten stronger.

Is better, faster, than before.

“ _Tensa Zangetsu_ ,” Ichigo calls for her Bankai.

And, like always, Zangetsu answers.

But it’s not enough.

Ichigo is still wounded, still healing, and even with her Bankai she falters as Byakuya presses forwards.

But, unlike Byakuya, Ichigo has more than just her zanpakutō to bolster her.

“ _Shiro_ ,” Ichigo calls for him, reaches for that pale mirror of herself.

And Shiro, with a cackle of mad laughter, _answers_.

~~~

Rukia is saved.

Torn and bleeding, agony arcing through her, Ichigo looks at her friend, looks at her gathered _hoard_ and feels almost satisfied.

But then …

 _Aizen_.

~~~

They spend a week in Seireitei in the aftermath.

Ichigo gets a week to heal, to regain her strength after Unohana-taichou’s intimidatingly thorough healing session.

She spends as much time as possible with the others, spends it with and watching over the ones that belong to _her_.

 _‘Mine,’_ that dark little voice in the back of Ichigo’s head whispers when she looks at them.

 _‘Ours,’_ Shiro agrees lazily while Ossan just hums.

~~~

Urahara apologizes, hat off and body pressed low to the ground, humbling himself in a way Ichigo never even _imagined_ he’d be willing to do for _her_.

Especially not over something like _this_.

“Get up,” Ichigo sighs, one part uncomfortable and one part bemused. “Come on Geta-bōshi, stop it.”

People don’t really apologize to Ichigo unless she beats it out of them first.

But then Urahara’s always been a bit of a blip in her life over the short amount of time she’s known him.

Despite her urging Urahara doesn’t get up but he does finally raise his head and really look at her. Ichigo just shakes her head and reaches a hand down to tug almost affectionately on that chunk of hair that always falls in his face.

“Way I see it you kept me alive,” Ichigo tells him.

Urahara’s brows arch high in question.

“I was always gonna go after Rukia,” Ichigo says with a light shrug as she lets his hair go and then absently pats at the top of his head, one part of her surprised by how soft his hair really is. “You just made sure we got there in time and you helped me get strong enough to do what needed to be done. But doing it? That was always my choice. _It’s what I am_.”

“It’s what you are?” Urahara repeats quietly as he stares up at her, eyes searching. “What exactly is that, Kurosaki-san?”

Instead of answering Ichigo just pats him on the shoulder and turns to walk away.

“So cruel to a humble shopkeeper, Kurosaki-san,” Urahara murmurs from behind her.

~~~

Time passes, things shift and change.

Ichigo learns to deal with the itching beneath her skin, learns to placate it by bundling Karin and Yuzu into her room every few nights so they can sleep huddled in her bed and wake up with Ichigo’s orange-and-steel scent clinging to their skin.

Learns to soothe it by spending lunch on the school roof with Chad and the others gathered all together where she can see them, feel them, where can easily protect what is _hers_.

The others learn to adjust to her changes, to the way she touches them now when before she'd always had issues with getting so close.

They draw together, a tight knit group, and it feels _good_ , feels _right_.

Ichigo would die for this.

For them.

~~~

But there’s not much time to rest, not much time to bask.

~~~

The Visored are a surprise and yet not because Ichigo could smell Urahara’s scent, green tea and strawberry mochi of all things and with the underlying coppery scent of blood, all over Shinji when they first met.

But then the arrancar comes and there’s no time to think.

Only time to step forward and between Aizen’s soldiers as they strike out where they have no right and _no place_.

The blue one, Grimmjow, just stares at her, eyes wide and face split in an ecstatic sort of grin, as he howls out a delighted sort of scream and rushes her again and again.

Ichigo fights and fights _and fights_ because that is who and what she is.

She has to make a stand, _has to hold the line_ , here in front of everything that’s settled behind her.

First Protector to all she holds dear.

~~~

No one outright says it but Ichigo can practically taste it in the air, the word the others don’t want to say in the aftermath of everything.

Because Ichigo knows what this is, knows what this is all leading to.

Can see it laid out in front of her like a half finished puzzle.

There’s Aizen with his schemes and his arrancar and his delusions of godhood.

There’s the Shinigami with their numbers and their honor and their unwillingness to change.

And then there’s Ichigo.

Ichigo with her zanpakutō and her hollow, with all of these parts of her that shouldn't work together so seamlessly but _do_ because she refuses to let it be any other way.

Ichigo with her inability to _stop_ and her willingness to press ever forward even if it hurts, even if, even when, it’s nothing but _agony_.

Ichigo with her ragtag hoard of precious odds and ends that she needs to _protect_.

All of it, all of them, all of these paths and people and choices, are all leading to one place, all of them stepping in one specific direction, separate but together all at the same time.

 _War_.

~~~

The Visored are so _disjointed_ , so out of step with themselves.

It’s a bit of a surprise to Ichigo, the way they seem so taken aback and almost _uncomfortable_ when Ichigo reaches so easily for her mask, reaches for Shiro and the part of herself he represents.

It sets her teeth on edge, makes Shiro scoff low and disgusted in the back of her mind, makes Ossan's judgement weigh heavy on her bones.

Ichigo knows it may not be fair of her but she can't understand why, after a century with little else to do, they're all so determined to maintain that distance with what is now another facet of their own souls.

Shinji and the others frown, displeased and offended and, maybe, just a bit guilty, when she says as much.

Urahara, who watches over everything with a sharp and calculating eye, just looks almost unbearable smug for some reason.

~~~ 

And then ...

War comes.

And then it keeps coming and coming _and coming_.

Ichigo fights and fights and bleeds and _dies_ and then she _gets back up again_.

She gets up and puts herself right where she needs to be.

Between others and death.

Between what is _hers_ and whatever, whoever, would take all of them away from her.

She steps in front of Rukia and Renji, steps in front of Chad and Ishida, in front of Lisa and Love and a hundred unnamed Shinigami whose faces she doesn’t even remember.

She steps in front of Suì-Fēng who hates her still and then in front of Byakuya because he’s changing slowly but surely and Rukia _loves_ him and he needs to _live_ for both of those reasons and so many more.

She steps in front of Urahara who catches her right before she hits the ground, a broad palmed hand pressed to the wound on her side, and then looks at her like he’s never seen her before.

She steps in front of Grimmjow just once and it’s the last time she sees him, laid out there on the sand, bleeding but _alive_ and looking at her with eyes gone wide and _lost_.

Ichigo steps up and forward and she _bleeds_ and she _hurts_ but she does it again and again _and again_.

And even with the _agony_ and wounds that become scars on her _soul_ Ichigo doesn’t regret a single moment of it.

 _‘First Protector,’_ Ichigo always thinks in those moments.

Mumbles it to herself like a mantra in the long nights when she should be sleeping but the dreams of blood and death and _screaming agony_ keep her awake.

When all she can do is wander, restless, through whatever camp they’ve all cobbled together, senses stretched out and searching for any threat in the distance.

 _‘First Protector,’_ Ichigo whispers in the quiet of her mind when Urahara, when _Kisuke_ , inevitably finds her and carries her back to her tent, pressing her to get at least a few hours of sleep.

_Anything, everything, to protect what is hers._

~~~

And then, two years into a war determined to kill them all, two years where Ichigo’s soul ages but her body stays the same on the other side of the time dilation, two years of blood and guts and change, Isshin comes.

Ichigo, a hand wrapped around his throat and demands to know where Karin and Yuzu are if he’s _here_ on her tongue, takes one good look at his shihakusho and almost kills him then and there.

It’s only Kisuke’s hand on her shoulder, it’s only the way that he _looks_ at her, that stops Ichigo.

~~~

Zangetsu planted in the ground in front of her, Ichigo stares out off of the side of the cliff.

“Ichigo,” Ossan’s voice is as heavy as the hand he places on her shoulder. “Do not do this.”

“Ya gave em enough already,” Shiro’s voice is raspy but quieter than normal. Not gentle, never really gentle even with her, but _softer_ somehow. “Don’t give em this too.”

Eyes focused on the sky, purposefully ignoring the noise coming from the camp behind her, Ichigo lets herself sigh just a bit.

“It’ll put an end to this,” she tells the both of them, these two pieces of herself who have become so very precious to her. “It’ll stop the war and it’ll save everyone. It’ll protect them.”

“ _Fuck em_ ,” Shiro spits harshly. “Don’t give a shit about protecting a bunch of fucks too weak to fight their own war.”

“All we want to protect,” Ossan says softly but Ichigo thinks she hears something like pain in his voice, “is you, Ichigo.”

With her back turned to the camp, Ichigo lets herself smile for the first time in longer than she can remember.

“Protecting them _is_ protecting me,” Ichigo tells them quietly.

And it’s true because, by this point, what, _who_ , is Ichigo without someone to step in front of? Without someone to protect?

“You and your _First Protector_ bullshit,” Shiro snaps, a hand coming over to tug harshly at her braid.

But there’s something else there in his voice too. Something hiding beneath the anger he wears like armor, something almost resigned, almost _fond_ , that lets her know that he understands even if he doesn’t agree.

“It’s gonna hurt, isn’t it?” Ichigo whispers the question, more than a bit ashamed to even be asking it.

She’s never feared pain, not since she was little at least, but _this_ …

Something tells her this is going to be so much worse than anything she’s ever felt before.

“It’s going to be agony unlike any other,” Ossan agrees. “But you are strong, Ichigo.”

“Course she is,” Shiro huffs and the way he tugs at her hair again feels almost loving. “Think I’d be the horse for a weak King?”

It’s as close to a compliment as her irritable hollow ever gets.

“Ichigo-san?” Kisuke calls from a few feet behind her.

The sound of him saying her first name still seems a bit strange to her but two years of war, of blood and battle and snatching each other away from death, has a way of breaking through the formalities.

At least between them, at least a little bit. But then Ichigo’s never been one too concerned with propriety either. Not really.

Besides, somewhere along the way, and probably sooner than he'd ever become comfortable with, he'd become one of _hers_ anyways.

Something, someone, that Ichigo wants to protect for all that she knows he's formidable all on his own.

But then that's never stopped Ichigo from stepping up and in front of someone before.

Never will.

 _‘First Protector,’_ she thinks as Ossan and Shiro fade back into her hidden world. Ichigo takes a second to breathe and then she brings the hand fisted around Zangetsu’s hilt up to bang her knuckles against her heart. It feels like a promise. Like a goodbye. _‘First Protector.’_

That’s what she is.

It’s what she’s _always_ been.

_First Protector._

_Only Protector._

~~~

Mugetsu is power unlike anything Ichigo has ever known.

Her ocean of reiryoku surging up and out in a single point.

The hurricane trapped behind her ribcage finally bursting free.

It rips through and out of her, setting her every nerve ending ablaze as it goes.

_And then it rips Ichigo apart._

~~~

Ichigo wakes up a month later.

She wakes slowly, softly.

Her body aches.

She feels both heavier and lighter than ever before.

She just lays there for the longest time, staring blankly up at the ceiling of one of the guest rooms in the Shōten.

She doesn’t cry.

Can’t.

Not even now, not even after everything.

But, hands coming up to cover her face, Ichigo thinks that hearing Ossan and Shiro _scream_ for her the way they did as they were ripped away from each other might haunt her more than the so called Winter War ever will.

~~~

Ichigo goes back to Isshin’s house.

Back to the place that hasn’t been home for her since she was nine.

She goes back and hugs Yuzu and Karin so tightly they can barely breathe.

She goes back and ignores Isshin and tries to ignore the way her body doesn’t feel _right_ anymore.

So ...

That’s it, end of story.

The war is over, Aizen’s army is dead or scattered, and Aizen himself is locked away in the dark depths of Muken.

Now, Ichigo gets to go back to the place she should call home. Gets to go back to the life everyone else seems to think she should be living.

 _Except_ …

Except not all of her actually does.

Except not all of her actually _can_.

_Because not all of Ichigo came back._

Because now there’s a place inside of Ichigo, just there in the center of her chest, pressed down into the bony plate of her sternum, that feels more than a little bit empty. Feels scooped out and cut open and jagged around the edges.

There's a spot inside of Ichigo now, in the recesses of her mind, in her bone white and endless sky blue reaches of her very _soul_ , that feels more than a bit ...

 _Hollow_.

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream at me:
> 
> http://rayshippouuchiha.tumblr.com/


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